Torn
by Dozey212
Summary: Two figures meet on a cliff surrounded by free flying hawks after twenty long years apart. Set after the sixth book. Fang POV. Two-shot. I’m not telling you if there is Faxness or not – Read and Review and find out!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Summary:** Set after the sixth book. Fang POV. Two figures meet on a cliff surrounded by free flying hawks after twenty long years apart. Two-shot. I'm not telling you if there is Faxness or not – Read and Review and find out!

**Note: **This is set **after** the sixth book. In case you don't know what that means, this may have **SPOILERS**. I've warned you. Don't read if you haven't read the end of Fang. I tried to keep this as in character as I could. I think I did okay-ish. If I have any errors all over the place, please review or pm me and tell me and I'll fix it up as best I can, and please just review me to tell you what you think. It means an awful lot. **Enjoy!**

**Another Note: **This was an intended one-shot that turned out epically long, so I had to two-shot it. Please read both chaps and review!

**~*~**

**Fang POV**

When I saw her walk down the aisle, looking awkward but gorgeous in her beautiful _girly_ dress and flowers in her hair, I nearly went back on my decision. I was so close to forgetting everything and abandoning the plan I'd spent days agonizing over – to leave or not to leave? Protect Max or be with Max? Abandon the Flock or stay with them, putting them in danger? In the end, I'd gone. Just like that. Just like before. It was the hardest decision I'd ever made in my life, and it had torn me in two. Half of me regretted ever leaving – I was broken without Max – and the other half was relieved. I'd made the right decision. She was safe. I'd made the wrong decision. She was gone. I was right – I was wrong – empty – relieved – grateful – broken. I was torn and everything that I'd ever known as _truly _right was with Max.

When I'd first left I'd just flown away, going nowhere but yet somewhere. I didn't see where I was going. I just flew blindly through the night. I was too numb. Finally, though, I was shaken from my stupor as the sun rose. What was I doing? I had to leave, go away. Where? I had nowhere to go. Looking down at the city below me I found I didn't know what one it was. I didn't know where I was without Max, internal compass be damned. I headed down towards a park, my wings aching from flying faster then I ever had before – I knew Max could catch me, if she decided to ignore my plea and come after me – so I had to move fast. My legs were numb from cold when I landed uncoordinatedly on the green grass, and I nearly fell, but the thought that I'd never get back up prevented me from doing so. Bringing the ten-dollar bill I'd taken from the Flock's money supply out of my pocket I headed off to grab some food. Idly, the thought occurred to me that I should be on the watch for the usual things that were after us, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt a brief flash of humour as I thought of how Max would've kicked my ass if she saw me on anything other then my constant guard in public, but then gut wrenching sorrow took its place. I'd never have Max yell at me for being lazy and not keeping a good watch, or for being a 'sexist pig,' or for letting the kids pour icing sugar in their cereal with breakfast while she was in the shower again. If this worked the way I'd planned, I wouldn't ever see her again.

At least not for twenty years.

That was the one thought that kept me going, somehow. Even though I knew that scumbag Dylan had probably taken on his intended role as Max's partner by now, I still hoped that somehow Max would somehow resist him. I knew she'd been drawn to him from the moment she laid eyes on him, and it killed me. I knew she didn't like it, and fought desperately against it like only Max could, but I knew it was fruitless. I wondered what she really felt for him. Was she just pushing him away in an attempt to sabotage the scientists plans for us, like she always did, or was she trying to shove him away because she honestly had no feelings for him, and had them for me instead? I hoped so. Although I knew I shouldn't. He was _made_ for Max – Mr. Perfect, she'd once called him, and it had cut me to pieces more then the _Thing_ they had between them ever had.

Like I said in my letter to her, I knew some of the things we'd recently found out were right. That she'd be stronger with him. That we all might have our own Flocks one day, each leading them with our own 'Perfect Match' just like Max and Dylan. Just looking at Angel and what had happened to her was proof of that. She wanted to rule. She was power hungry, willing to go to desperate measures to achieve what she wanted – even betraying the person who'd raised and loved her. The others might go that way in time, too. Max and me, now that we had gotten _together _together, just weakened the Flock. I desperately wanted it not to be true, but it was just another fact that had been slammed down in front of us, and we'd been forced to label it true, despite what we wanted.

But in twenty years, things may be extremely different.

We – no, not we anymore – Max and the others might have saved the world. In saving the world, they might've eliminated any threat towards us. Hah, unlikely. But things, I hoped, would be quieter for them. Safer for them. They were still on the radar. So was I, in a way, but on the public radar I was non-existent. Occasionally I checked my blog as a visitor, and the responses from my fans crushed me. The uproar that occurred when they figured out I'd bolted from Max, abandoning something they called 'Faxness' –which I figured out was some type of Max and Fang togetherness– was horrible. They also thought I'd abandoned _them_, giving up on saving the word, dooming them. But it was never my place. _Max_ had to save the world, not the rest of us. We were just the sidekicks that she needed to help her do it. Without her, it wasn't accomplishable. The rest of us were, well, disposable, to a certain extent. I realised that, truly, when the scientists didn't try to get me back – to hard, nor very often. Of course, I'd had to fight off plenty of different things, mainly the Erasers that have miraculously returned from the dead, but they weren't around every corner like they used to be. They weren't springing up on me twenty-four seven like they did before – because it was all about _Max _and she wasn't with me. It was unnerving to realise that the whole world was focused on her, and not just my own. She was crucial to everyone's survival, not just mine.

So, with this newfound knowledge that I wasn't as important to the scientists anymore, I decided to use it to my advantage. Never before had I been so grateful that the one power I'd been gifted with was invisibility. Unseen, I could go anywhere. Of course, I knew they tracked me from within by microchips and blood samples and whatnot, but to the naked eye I did really, truly, fall from the map.

For twenty years, I'd been invisible.

With this newfound chink in my cage, I helped Max. When Erasers and M-Geeks and robots and assassins went after the Flock, I got to most of them before they could get to her and the kids and disposed of them. It was at a great risk to myself that I was doing this, I knew, but most of the time the enemies hadn't been informed of my presence by the higher ups that knew where I was at all times, and by the time they did it was too late to do them any good.

Only once in my acts of protection did I see Max, ten years after I left, and it broke me inside yet again. I wanted to see her desperately – I needed to be with her – but I was torn between flying over to her, dissolving my cloak of invisibility, or flying away and hoping never to see her again as to not be tempted to return to her and the others, and put them in unnecessary danger. Unable to make a decision quickly, I'd frozen, all my limbs – including my wings – locking down from impact. I'd started to fall, fast. Never tearing my eyes from her sunlit form, I made sure to hover so I could watch her, only letting my wings beat fractionally as to not make a loud noise. She was fighting the few Erasers I hadn't been able to take care of not far from me. I was so close. I could just fly over there, take her in my arms again. . . Unbidden, I started to fly towards her, snarled by her like I always had been. She finished with the last Eraser and it dropped down, down, down landing with a thud on the hard ground below. Max's eyes scanned the perimeter, passing over me where I softly flew towards her invisibly, searching for any other dangers.

"Max," I whispered, heart thudding erratically. She still looked very much the same – only older. Ten years had passed, after all. Ten years of nothing by brokenness, for me, and I have no idea what for her. She was still just as beautiful as I remembered, maybe more so, in a battered pair of jeans and a black singlet top. Her hair was the same as before, maybe a bit blonder and longer, and I itched to knot my hands in it and pull her to me like I always used to. Her wings were wide and beautiful, a mixture of browns, tans, whites and blacks. Her face had lost any trace of youth, and it was all woman, sharp and beautiful. But she looked so, so, so different at the same time. She'd lost some of her beauty, too. She was thinner. Her eyes had little rings of shadows around them, and those lips I'd kissed countless times had turned down at the corners, like she didn't smile often anymore. Her forehead had slight creases in it, probably from stress, and her beautiful long hair just sort of hung. She mightn't have washed her hair very often before, but it had a certain shine to it no matter what it went through. That was gone now. We'd never been the cleanest, or the healthiest, but Max looked sick in a different way to me, and it chilled me to the core.

She shook her head, closed her eyes, opened them again, and looked right at me. I froze again, but this time I remembered to stay in the air. I was torn, once again. I was scared of what would happen if she did see me, if we did communicate, because I knew I'd go back to her and the Flock – if she'd let me. I'd put her in danger, and the thought petrified me. But I was selfish, too, and that selfish side of me was trying to clutch desperately at this moment and turn it into what the other part of me feared.

"Fang?" Max replied, and her gaze left me, sliding around the air from side to side, searching for my invisible form. "Oh, god. Please, if you're there, answer me. Don't let me be imagining this, too," she pleaded. I was frozen. I wanted to answer her – but I couldn't. Moments passed. "Fang?" her voice was so weak this time I hardly heard it. The look of utter pain on her face was unbearable, and just as I was about to shed my invisibility and reveal myself to her, a voice rang out.

"Max?" Dylan called, speeding across the skies horizon towards her, a look of panic and fear and something else on his face. My blood boiled. "You're okay! I was so worried, and I came as quickly as I could when I heard about the Erasers, but … Thank God you're safe." He gave her a relieved grin, but Max didn't see it. She was still looking around her – looking for me. The thought made me smile marginally, and I took a grim pleasure in the fact that, for this split second in time, it was me she was after and not him. "Max, what's wrong?" Dylan asked, shifting into a defensive stance next to her, scanning the area for a threat, finally taking note of her mood.

Max shook her head. "I – it's –" she stopped, looking like she was unable to continue, and took a deep breath. Dylan looked over at her, at her pain wretched expression, and started shooting questions at her as I watched, frozen emotionally and physically. "Dyl, I'm fine. Leave it," Max snapped finally, sounding like her old self again. I smiled sadly. She was still the same. "Let's just go back." With that, she shot off, too fast for either of us to follow. Dylan sighed and flew off after her, and I watched, frozen, until both of them were out of sight.

I never stopped playing over that meeting in my mind, never stopped thinking of how things could have been different. I still loved Max so much it hurt, and to know that I'd been so close to her but unable to do anything, unable to even have her look at me properly, was torture. I analysed everything she'd said over and over. One thing she'd said pained me and confused me to no end: _don't let me be imagining this, too. _Was Max . . . unwell? No. Of course not. I'd known her my whole life, and she had never been mentally – deranged or anything close. She'd always been so strong and sure, and . . . but what else was she possibly imagining? I recalled Max freaking out once before over something like this – she'd seen herself as an Eraser in the mirror, and she had made me promise to take her down if she became one. It turned out to be nothing in the end, or at least it was the last I ever heard of it. The whole thing made the urge to go to her and comfort her and just be with her – Faxness, as the bloggers would say – was over whelming. To complete myself again.

Five more years passed after that, in which I nearly died twice. Both times I thought it had been it, Angel's prophecy come true, but I had pulled through with the thought that if I passed on, I couldn't protect Max. I loved her so much, and both times I nearly died, the thought terrorized me that this could be her one day, lying on her deathbed, if I wasn't there to stop it. So I survived, while dead inside, somehow, for her. Always for her.

Time passed slowly. I watched the news, watched the Flock through the publics eye, watched as Nudge grew up, and Gazzy and Angel entered their teen years. I was in my twenties now, same with Iggy and Max – and Dylan – and I'd never felt older. Each day apart from Max, and even the others, was tortuously slow but when I looked back at the years that had gone past apart from them, they seemed like days. It felt like yesterday that I was going for secret midnight flies with Max, just a week ago that we were all in the E-house, living happily, bickering over who had to wash the dishes after our meals.

Fifteen years apart.

Sixteen years.

Seventeen.

Eighteen years. In two more years, I'd meet Max at the cliff with the hawks. If she'd come. I may know Max as well as I know myself, but I wasn't sure in this. She'd either show up to kick my ass . . . or she'd not show up . . . or she'd show up and beat me black and blue . . . or I had no clue what she'd do. I may have loved Max for years before we were together, but we were only partners for nearly a year before I'd left. Still getting used to it, still getting to know each other on that level. I didn't – hadn't gotten – to know her well enough in that way to predict her actions. If she even still felt that way about me. Dylan and Max getting together was a serious possibility. But even without that fact – did I seriously just expect her to open her arms after twenty years of no contact whatsoever and welcome me home, love and heart still intact? I mean, this is _Max_ we're talking about here. Besides, I knew we'd both grown up a lot in our time apart. All of us had in the Flock. We were adults now, well, at leats Max, Iggy and I were, and had all matured. I knew better then to hope for a fairy tale ending.

Things seemed to brighten up for me, at least a little. Instead of being washed about in a current of endless numbness, I found myself with a little, tiny, small bite of life in me. Something to look forward to when I woke up. I counted the months, days, hours, until I'd be standing out there on that cliff top, waiting for Max. I'd be there a couple of days before the appointment just to be sure that I'd actually get there. I didn't want to take any chances – none at all. And I'd wait for as long as I could afterwards, too. She might decide not to come to the meeting, and then want to come later, or she might get caught up in something and may not be able to make it for a little while . . . the possibilities were endless, but one thing I was sure of: I'd be there.

A year away from the meeting, things got bad. The Flock was falling apart, worse then ever before. Angel had gone off again, taking Iggy with her. Gazzy was lost without his best mate. Nudge was, from what I could tell from my safe distance away from them, so un-Nudge like it was like a clone had taken her place. Dylan was still Dylan, running after Max. Max was still Max, trying desperately to patch the leaks in her dam walls even as torrents of water exploded from them. Always trying to hold things together. She wasn't just trying to save the world, I realised. She was trying to save the Flock. Her family. And we'd all fallen apart, nearly beyond repair. I needed to be there, to help her, but I just couldn't, not yet. I'd made myself, and her, a promise. I'd keep her safe. Twenty years was the mark I'd set to see her again, and I was going to stick by it, no matter how hard my heart pleaded with me to go to her _now_.

Only six months left. I wondered if I could even become visible anymore. I'd stuck with invisibility since the day I'd left. Sometimes it hindered me; sometimes it helped me. Either way, I didn't change it. I couldn't. Not until I saw Max again.

Five months to go.

Four months left to wait.

Three months of painful nothingness left.

Two months of waiting.

One month, six days, twelve hours to go. I was second doubting everything I'd decided, everything I'd come to and made my mind up on. It was pointless going, really. Max wouldn't want to see me after all these years. I was just going to pain myself unnecessarily by hoping of things could go back to the way things were just before I left – me and Max, together. But just in case, I'd go, but – shaking my head, I told myself to shut up. I was torn, again. Just like in the beginning. To stay or to go; to hope or not to hope; go back to the Flock –well, the remains of it– and put them in danger or just keep my distance. For once, that selfish side of me one out. I would hope things between Max and me were still strong, even though the logical side of my brain was telling me not to. I would go; of course I would. Even after all these years it was just as hard staying away from Max as it was at the very beginning. I needed to see her, even if things weren't the same. I couldn't live in this numbness forever.

A fortnight.

Eight days.

A week.

Ninety-six hours.

With three days to go until the meeting, I flew over to the cave with the hawks and set up my camp in a familiar cave. I brang a sleeping bag stuffed with food which had been awful to lug up here and my new laptop. Basically all I owned was the computer. The rest I got from breaking into old cabins since I found it hard to shop invisible. That was another thing I was torn over: the object of my visibility. I didn't want to be visible until I saw Max, because, really, being invisible just felt like a self-inflicted punishment that I'd put myself under for twenty years. It didn't feel right to let myself off that punishment until I saw Max, and it was officially over. Invisibility without Max was a representation of me without Max: nothing. It seemed like the right thing to me, to become visible again when I was with her again, no longer a shell. She may not let me back in, and I prayed that wouldn't happen, or she might do so – unlikely, I know. Either way, I wanted this numbness and invisibility over with. It was killing me. I needed to be whole again.

Two days.

Twenty-four hours since I'd walked out of Flock.

I hadn't slept since I got here, afraid that while I was asleep Max would come, wouldn't see me, and would leave without my knowing. I was so tired I could barely see straight, but I knew I had to hang on. She'd be here soon. She had to be. Briefly, I wondered what I'd do if Max didn't come. Would I go looking for her? Go find out where Angel and Iggy had disappeared to a little over a year ago? If I couldn't find the Flock, which I always had been able to, somehow, over these twenty odd years when I was protecting them, then I could go to Dr. Martinez. She would know. If she would help me, though, was another matter entirely. I wouldn't blame her. I'd ruined her daughter's life, after all.

Twenty-three hours.

Twenty.

Eighteen.

Sixteen.

I was scanning the skies like there was no tomorrow. In the dim early morning light all I could see was a few wisps of clouds and the sun rising. The hawks all around me were up and about all ready. Their young were squawking for food, and the parents flew about on powerful wings to go and hunt for the little ones. Watching as they flew around, I remember sitting here with Nudge, all those years ago, and learning flying tips off them. I felt a pang of loss. I missed all of them so, so, so much. Even little shifty Angel. Max would've had her hands full with her these last couple of years, and I was just regretful that I hadn't been able to help her.

Twelve hours to go.

My heart was beating so fast it felt like I'd just flown a Flock-sized marathon. Despite the adrenaline pumping in my veins, I sat shock still, watching, barely moving to breathe. I hardly wanted to blink for fear of missing her – or their arrival. I wondered if the others would come. It would be horrible if Dylan came and I think I might lose it if he did. But I had no claim over Max, not anymore, and it was not my right to kick his ass if things had gone on between them. It was totally justified, and likely. She wasn't _mine_ like she used to be, despite the fact that I was, and _always_ would be, hers.

Ten hours.

Nine hours.

Eight hours since the exact time when I'd walked out of Max's life.

Seven.

Six.

Still scanning the horizon, ignoring the noises of bird life going on around me from the hawks, I finally saw something. Coming in from the west was a little fast moving spec. And, if I looked close enough, I could just make out wings beating, so it couldn't be a plane. My gaze was locked on whoever – or whatever – it was flying at me. It well could be a hawk, but something told me it wasn't. It could be any other bird kid, but I was half positive it was Max. From this distance it was hard to tell, but I thought I could just make out the way she flew. Two massive wing beats, a little glide, a wing beat, glide, repeat. Yes. It was her. I could only just make out the pattern of her flying, but I knew it was Max, somewhere deep inside of me was sure. Suddenly, I was really nervous. I wiped my hands on my dark jeans, and suddenly wished I'd taken a shower in the last month and a half. I swallowed.

She was just close enough now for me to make out her tattered jeans and dirty bloodstained blue top. She had dirt streaks all over her face and arms and a cut ran half the length of her jaw line, from the bottom of her ear to the corner of her mouth. Her hair still hadn't recovered its old shine, and she had become even thinner since the last time I chanced upon seeing her. She looked unhealthy, still. It made me sad. Some part of me hoped that I could make it better. Hah. Like she'd let me after all of this. I rubbed my hands over my face, swallowed, and returned to watching her as she flew closer.

With a grunt she landed on the cliff ledge to the left of me. She kept her wings out, too cool down no doubt, and she paced the length of the ledge, hands on hips, scanning the skies. She ignored the hawks around her and they ignored her too since they were used to me being here. Up close, she looked even worse for wear. Some part of me was screaming, _You did this; you did this to Max_! and it cut me to the core. I heaved a great sigh, and Max spun to face the empty ledge where I was sitting. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she scanned it up and down, up and down, her gaze never once coming to stop on me where I stood invisible to the side.

Slowly, I shook off my invisibility, eyes never leaving her face.

**~*~**

**Note: **Wow. Okay. This is strange. I actually like that. Normally I'm iffy and uncertain about my work. Review and tell me, dear reader, if yooouuuu liked it as much as I did. The second part may be harder, though. Those two don't seem like the type to kiss and make up.

The more reviews I receive, the quicker the second chapter goes up!

Over and Out,  
Dozey212


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**~*~**

Fang POV

Max's gaze zeroed in on me like lightning. I couldn't read any expression on her face, it was carefully blank, and that pained me. We'd always had a deep level of communicating without words before. That looked like it was lost now. _Really_, a bitter part of me remarked, _did you honestly expect anything else?_

We stood there in silence, separated by more then the empty space between us. I was at a loss of what to say. I wanted to apologize, but how? I wanted to explain, but I couldn't. I wanted to tell her I loved her, but it was just plain wrong after all this time and what I'd put her through. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but the answer stood in front of me. No, she wasn't. She was tired, stressed, worn out. I wanted to ask if Dylan had taken my place, but that wouldn't be the right thing to do – ever. It wasn't _my place_ anymore. I wanted – I wanted to sit down and ask it she still liked poached eggs for breakfast the most, or if her favourite time of day was still dusk. I just wanted to still know her, somehow knowing myself that it was impossible. People change in twenty years. We were all proof of that.

"Max," I pleaded. I felt like crying under the blank, emotionless stare she was giving me. I had never felt so dead in my life – even the last twenty years of nothingness didn't compare to this. I was wilting away. "Please, do something. Say something." She just looked at me blankly, as if nothing I said registered or affected her at all.

I stepped forwards on my ledge, and she stepped backwards on hers. The only move she'd made since I'd become visible was away from me. I winced, and something flashed through her eyes and disappeared behind her mask too fast for me to recognise.

"Just – just be mad or something," I pleaded softly. "Yell and scream, or bash me up, or anything. Please, just not this." I stepped forwards again, and she stepped back, shaking her head. I refrained from wincing, even though it hurt more then the first time, if that was even possible.

"No," she whispered, still shaking her head slowly.

"Max?" I didn't understand. No what? Confusion must have shown on my face, because she just shook her head in answer, muttering a weak, "No, Fang." It was the first time she'd said my name, but it sounded dead on her lips, and she winced marginally when she said it.

Minutes passed in agonizing silence. At loss of what to say, I asked, "Do you still like poached eggs?" I felt ridiculous and stupid, and regretted saying anything like it as soon as the words left my mouth. Damn it. Now I sound like I don't care, asking trivial things like that in a moment so serious and thick was tension it felt like I could swim through it.

Something flashed through Max's eyes, and she shook her head slowly to herself. My heart sunk. Ever since forever, it'd been her favourite, and if that changed anything could change . . . She stopped shaking her head and frowned – the first expression on her face. "Yes, I do," she said, still frowning at me.

Hope blossomed inside of me. She still liked poached eggs.

"Okay," I mumbled, nodding. Her face smoothed back into its neutral nothing expression, and the hope that just blossomed inside of me withered and died.

Minutes that held an eternity passed in silence. "Max," I said, looking her squarely in the eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, you don't have any idea how –" I stopped, the words caught in my throat. I hoped that somehow our silent communication had survived, and she could see the apology, sadness, and pain in my expression. I _needed_ her to see it.

"You broke my heart," she said flatly.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't deny it. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You left when we needed you," she said, no emotion in her voice. "You left when _I_ needed you."

The way she said it was as a statement, but it hit me like an accusation. I felt like staggering. "Max, I –"

"Why?" she asked, still staring at me with nothing. "Why did you have to do it?"

"I did it so the Flock, and you, weren't in danger," I explained, eyes searching her face. "That's why I left. You have to understand –"

"Don't tell me what I have to do," she cut me off blankly, still speaking in her monotone. She was starting to scare me. She wasn't acting like the Max I knew. Had I broken her this much? Beyond repair? The thought was horrible. "I wasn't asking about that. Why did you have to do it? Love me, and then chuck me away? _Why_?"

Horror washed through me. "Max, please, you have to listen –"

"I don't have to do anything, not for you." _Not anymore_. The words hung in the air, and we both heard them. Their truth hit me like a ton of bricks.

I winced but continued anyway, "– I love you. I didn't _chuck you away_." I hoped she could hear how appalled I was at the idea. "I couldn't put you and the Flock in unnecessary danger, so I left. I never stopped loving you, Max. You have to know that." I wasn't thinking straight. What the hell was I meant to say? What _could_ I say to make something like this better? "I didn't abandon you, either. I helped. I took out Erasers before they could get to you."

"So I wasn't imagining that?" she asked, a weird expression on her face. It may have been strange, and I may not have been able to read it, but I seized it desperately anyway. I'd take anything other then the hollow blankness. "No, Max," I said, shaking my head, trying to get her to see. "I was there, and I was so, so, so close to going to you, but Dylan came and you flew away, and I couldn't put you in the danger . . ." my voice trailed off and she didn't say anything. "But I wanted to, Max. So badly. You have no idea. I love you so much."

"Loved," she corrected.

"No, Max. _Love._" Present tense. Please realise that.

"You know," she mused, ignoring what I'd said, "I loved you too."

_Loved_. Past tense. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me, my soul ripped from me.

"I still did, for a while," she continued, oblivious to the despair rushing through me. My mind just kept repeating _Loved, not love, loved, not love, loved, not love_, over and over in my head. "I loved you for years after you left." Her gaze met mine again, and something flashed across her face as she registered the utter pain there, but it passed quickly. "But then I realised that if you had really loved me as much as you always said you did, you wouldn't have gone. Not if you loved me," she repeated the lie to herself, glancing away from me.

"Max, I had to go, because I loved you that much. I had to protect you. Please, you have to realise that."

She shook her head. In denial? Rejection? Disbelief? I didn't know, and it pained me. The connection was lost. I never realised how much I took it for granted until it was gone. Something, though, looking into her eyes, lit something in me. If I didn't do it now, make it right now, convince her now, I never would – or could. Even if she had moved on, I had to let her know now. That I was here. She had to make the decision now, here, based on us in this moment not us then and what she thinks happened and why it did. With this new revelation, I spread my wings and lurched myself into the air towards her ledge. Surprise broke her mask of indifference, and she jumped back as I landed silently in front of her.

"Maximum," I said, walking towards her. She backed away until she was on the edge of the cliff, but I knew that wasn't a boundary, that it wouldn't stop her. She could always fly away, too fast for me to follow. "I love you. I always have. I always will. I left – because I love you. Only because of that. I fought them before they got to you – because I love you." I swallowed, and suddenly felt very, very tired. I'd never been an emotional person, and all this sharing of my feelings was so . . . strange after twenty years of feeling next to nothing. Even before I hadn't been this open with her, and it was one of the things I regretted the most.

"Fang," she said, sounding strangled. "Don't do this. Please." Her indifferent blank mask was gone, and she looked . . . unsure. That uncertainty fuelled a little hope within me, but it also hurt. That look, combined with her aged, worn demure made her seem so . . . fragile, almost. Something that Max should never ever look like. It was just – wrong. I really had broken her. She looked like she had no life, no will, left in her.

"Max, you _know_ I love you." I said it like a statement, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. "You _know_ I do. I can tell." And I could, somehow. Maybe our connection hadn't been severed beyond recognition.

"But – it doesn't change anything, Fang," she said. She hadn't denied it. I was right. She _did_ know. "You broke me, I haven't heard from you in twenty years. You just can't – come back. It . . . I can't."

I knew that. I expected that. I swallowed. "I know, but Max –" I cut myself off. It doesn't change anything . . . because her and Dylan are what we used to be? That would make sense, even though it pained me to even think it. Quietly, I asked, "Max, are you and Dylan together?"

She shook her head, and I felt disbelief and hope rush through me. "I tried, I really did, but I couldn't. I just couldn't forget you, and even though it was so right to be with him –" I winced "– it was so wrong, too. Being with someone so – compatible with me, it just wasn't _natural_." Not like being with me was natural. I shook my head. I was getting ahead of myself.

"Will – will you let me back in?" I asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer. Seeing her expression, I added, "Back into the Flock, I mean," hastily. I was willing to take whatever I got. Already, the life I'd been missing – that I had left with Max – was returning to me. The thought of going back to the nothingness I'd lived in for the last twenty years was so bleak and horrible I would do anything to stop it from happening. Even going back to the Flock where they wouldn't trust me, even living with stupid Mr. Perfect, even being _just friends_ with Max, the love of my life.

"You broke them too, you know. They were never the same after you left," Max said matter–of–factly, giving me a hard look.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly but sincerely. I hoped she heard the truth in the words.

It was silent. Max searched my face for something, and I hoped whatever she found swayed her to say yes. I kept my expression open and truthful, wanting nothing unreal or any misinterpretations to stand in the way of her making her decision.

I waited silently, my heart in her hands.

"Fang," Max finally said. "I can't trust you."

That hit home hard. We were hybrids that have been on the run our whole lives, living in constant fear and suspicion. We didn't trust anyone. But we had always, always, always trusted each other. And for me to have lost the trust of one of the Flock, especially Max of all people, was so overwhelmingly wrong it took me a moment to process it because it had always seemed impossible.

"I –" I stopped and cleared my throat, feeling embarrassed about it. "I guess I can understand that," I replied. I'd never wanted to be invisible more in my life, but I fought the urge to just disappear. I was not a coward. I could face this – the crushing of everything I knew, loved, and hoped for no matter how hard it was.

"Don't leave," Max snapped angrily, and I nearly smiled. There was the Max I knew and loved, demanding and stubborn. "Not again."

"I'm not going anywhere, Max," I replied.

"You were fading. Not going anywhere counts as not disappearing into invisibility." Never in my life had I been happier to see her scowling at me, the nothingness mask gone. But what was she talking about? Focusing my efforts on my power, I found myself stuck between visibility and not. Frowning, I tried to return to fully visible. I couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "But I can't help it. It's a struggle to be visible anymore." Just like when I had first discovered my power and I could hardly make myself not be seen, now, after all those years of being invisible, it was a struggle to be seen. It had flipped around, reversed itself. I gave her a small, sad grin. "I haven't been visible in twenty years, you know."

Max's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to go into the reasons. How on earth was I going to explain to her that I became invisible when I wasn't with her because it felt like I wasn't there inside anymore? That because my soul disappeared, I made my body disappear, too?

"Max?" I asked, bringing her attention back the present and out of her thoughtful look. "Are you . . . well?" I'd been dying to ask her that since she got here. Well, before that actually. As soon as I saw her fighting those Erasers, meters from me, all those years ago. The first time I saw her – not unfit, not unhealthy, but something akin to it.

"Things haven't been tough at all, ya know, with saving the world and all that," she ranted sarcastically, rolling her eyes. I watched her in amazement. With every second that passed, I got another piece more of my old Max back. But that wasn't the answer I wanted. I gave her a look, and she sighed. "I'm fine, Fang."

"That's good. I was worried."

She threw me a withering look. "That's really annoying, you know."

"What is?"

"That I don't hear from you in twenty years, you don't care for twenty years –" I opened my mouth to object, to remind her of my pre-attacks on those who would attack the Flock, but she just shook her head at me warningly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she said, and I shut my mouth. Continuing, she said, "And then suddenly you show up, all concerned."

"I never stopped caring about you."

"I know. Me too," she mumbled, and bit her lip and looked away.

I had broken her, I knew that, and as I saw her pained expression, I vowed to myself that I'd fix her again. If she'd ever let me. And she cared for me, too, she just admitted. She may not love me anymore, or trust me – at least that's what she said – but some things couldn't change. She still cared. "Max." I stepped towards her, and she didn't step back. She couldn't. She was right up against the ledge. Max didn't turn towards me, just kept looking down at the dusty valley below us. "Max." I stepped closer still, and lowered my head so I could see eye to eye with her. She refused to look at me, and I gently turned her head towards me, surprised she didn't put a fight. I was shocked to find she had tears in her eyes. "Max?" Her name was a question this time. She blinked at me. "Don't cry," I muttered.

Consequences and facts didn't influence instincts, I soon found out, because as soon as I saw her tears I leant forward and hugged her, acting on the instinct to take her pain away. Immediately, I knew I'd done the wrong thing. Max stiffened. I stiffened. I knew I shouldn't have ever done something like this, not now, not after the last two decades. But I was frozen. For twenty years I'd wanted her in my arms again, and to be finally holding her again felt like heaven. But this wasn't want Max wanted, and it wasn't a friendly hug. I moved to pull back, but Max just shook her head against me, wrapped her arms around me, and I was frozen again. And very, very confused. She says she doesn't love me, she doesn't trust me, then she says she cares for me still and returns my hug. I wasn't the only one who'd been lost and confused, I realised. Max was, too. She probably has been for as long as I have been: twenty years.

I wrapped my arms around her stronger, crushing her too me, and rested my head on top of hers. I was at least a head taller then her. I smiled briefly when I realised her hair still smelt the same. Max was holding me so tightly that it was sort of painful, but no way would I move or say something now that I was finally here again in her arms. I was sure I was holding her just as desperately, too.

"I'm sorry, Max," I murmured into her hair. My voice sounded weird and husky, and the back of my throat burned. "Please, you have to believe me. It's killing me."

Max nodded. "I know." She didn't say it's okay, or I forgive you, but it was enough. I didn't expect her to ever say it was okay to just up and leave for twenty years, or to forgive me for it. It wouldn't be right – it would be _Max_.

Eventually, she pulled back, looking embarrassed. Her face had dried tears all over it. I would've reached up to wipe them away, but I didn't feel like I could. Not anymore. A hug didn't change everything, not like leaving for a few decades did. She gave me a small smile, nothing more then a lip twitch. I returned it, and couldn't resist reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. She held shock still, and I knew I wouldn't, couldn't, push the boundaries anymore.

Something was off, though. Something was bugging me. Something didn't make sense.

Meeting Max's eyes, I asked, softly, "Do you really, truly not trust me?" There was an underlying current in the words, one I knew she'd feel and hear.

She didn't glance away; she didn't even blink. She just looked at me. Time passed, but I felt disconnected from it. Like it didn't matter anymore. Finally, she said, just as softly, "I really, really, really don't want to trust you. I want to hurt you like you hurt me. I want to hate you. Some part of me does. But – but I do trust you, even after all this. And I can't hate you. Not for too long, anyway. And I can't stand hurting you, either. It just hurts _me_." She gave me a funny a look. "It just doesn't make sense, huh?"

"Nothing ever makes sense with us," I agreed.

She gave me a small Max-filled grin, but then turned serious again. "And, I really, really, really don't want to love you." I stopped breathing, waiting. "But I can't stop. I can't help it." I didn't move for a moment, just looking at her – _really_ looking at her. Seeing how her eyes were a little bit brighter then at the beginning of today, how a little bit more colour had returned to her cheeks. The healing process had begun for both of us, I realised. Just like she'd seemed to give me my life back by just being with me, I did the same for her.

"But," she continued, "I can't just _go back_. I can't just let you in again, and return to how things were before."

I took of hold of her hand, running the back of her hand with my thumb. Physical contact seemed to make this all so much more _real_, somehow. "I know, Max. I didn't even really expect you to, well, even stand me anymore. Not that I'm objecting." I gave her a full-out smile, one I hadn't used in twenty years, and hardly even used back before all this. "I thought Dylan would've . . ." We both made faces at the idea, and then shared a smile. God, I'd missed her. So much. "But will you let me go back to the Flock with you?"

She gave my hands a squeeze. "Things aren't going to be easy. It's going to be bad at first. They'll probably shun you, or try to sabotage you, or something. But, yeah. You're still Flock."

Gathering my courage, I asked, "Will – will we try?" I hoped our communication skills with each other were still there. I didn't really want to explain this, it might get awkward, and it'd be so much easier if she just knew what I was talking about. Understanding flashed across her face, and I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Then something else crossed her expression, and I quickly added, "I don't expect things to just magically get better, Max. But will we try? Try to make it good again?" I didn't care how long it took, or what I had to do, but I wanted Max better. I wanted us again, even it took me the rest of my life to regain all her trust, and experience all her love again.

She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah."

I sighed, and gave her a happy, grateful smile. "There's so much that I need to catch up on. Like what happened with Iggy and Angel." Max's face fell, and then settled into a scary hardness that I'd only seen her use with scientists or things out to get us before – never Flock, or ex-Flock or whatever. "Is it that bad?" I asked her carefully, not wanting to set her anger off.

"Pretty much. Angel's . . . corrupted. Iggy I don't think as much." She peered up at me sadly. "He went to get his eyes back, Fang. How could I stop him from that?" I gave her hand an understanding squeeze. "I think he might've planned to come back once his eyes were fixed, from what Gazzy's hinted at, but he never did. We haven't heard from them in a year. They might be dead, or worse."

I ran my hand down her cheek. "Hey, don't get upset. It'll be okay."

"I still haven't saved the world, Fang. I'm sorry," Max continued. "The Voice keeps telling me to do it already, but I don't know how, or when, or what from. There are so many different things, and I can't do it all . . . I think that's what the point of this whole leading our whole Flocks thing might be about. Each of us have our own little mission to do in saving the world, and combined we'd save it. I don't know. I know as much now as I did then."

I considered it for a moment. In all those years of thinking over things like this, trying to put pieces together, create the Bigger Picture Max's Voice was always going on about, and this had never occurred to me. And it made sense. "That'd be logical," I told her, nodding. "But I don't know if I like it."

"I know what you mean," she replied, and understanding and connectedness flowed between us.

"Well," I said, "I still haven't lived up to whats been foretold of me, either. Twenty years ago I was going to die soon. I still haven't – although I've come close a couple of times."

Max's face froze, and she asked, "What do you mean?"

I grimaced. "Well, I got into a couple of bad situations with some Erasers. Nothing too bad, obviously." I was still here, after all.

She gave me a disapproving look, and opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her by laying a finger over her lips. She froze. "Please, not now. I don't want to have that conversation."

She sighed then nodded. "I guess we're even, anyway. I nearly died a couple of times, too." Taking in her expression and stance, I knew she was downplaying it. I narrowed my eyes at her. "No, no, no," she said, smiling evilly. "We're not having that conversation now, remember?"

I glowered at her before pulling her in for a quick hug – I couldn't resist. I had twenty years on no contact with her to make up for. "God, I've missed you," I told her truthfully. But I knew I had to be careful. We were standing on a knives edge with each other. Just as easily as we seemed to reconnect now, I knew it could just as easily go the other way. We were going to have so many tough fights in the future that neither of us really wanted, I could tell, but they were necessary for us to get through this and heal properly. We had so many long, difficult conversations to get through.

"I know. Me too," she agreed, and it took me a moment to come out of my thoughts and back to the present.

I released her, and she shook out her wings. "We better get going back. The others will be worried, and Dylan will be having a fit by now." I glowered at the mention of Mr. Damn Perfect, but kept my mouth shut. Max and I were still on shaky legs when it came to being back together, or even friends, again. We had to learn to walk again before we could run. Like she said, it was going to be freaking tough.

"Let me grab my stuff," I said, and flew back over to the cave where I'd been staying. My stuff was already packed, and I threw Max some of the food I'd gotten to put in her pack. As I glided back down to her, I caught her staring at me.

"What?" I asked, slinging the laptop bag over my shoulder.

She shook her head. "You're so different, but you're still the same. You're so . . . I don't know. Beautiful? I don't know if that's the right word." She walked towards me, and then reached over my shoulder to trace the top arc of my wing. It rustled a bit under touch, and she grinned. "I always loved your wings, you know," she mused out loud.

"Hmph," I said, distracted by the feel of her hands as they slipped under the tougher outer feathers to stroke the softer downy ones underneath.

She turned, gave me one last challenging look over her shoulder, and jumped off the cliff. Her wings snapped out, just as beautiful as I remembered them being, and up she rose into the sky. Hawks all around us squawked at the sudden bird woman in their space, but soon settled down again.

Things weren't perfect, not by any means, we had a long bumpy road ahead of us and things with the remains of the Flock were going to be bad, but I was feeling more happy, more whole, more _complete_ then I had in twenty years as I lurched myself off the cliff and into the air after Max.

**~*~**

Note: I didn't move to fast, did I? God, I think I did. Damn, I've stuffed it. I liked the first chapter better, what do you recon? Ah, I'm freaking. Deep breaths. Okay. Better now. Please review and leave me a word on wether you agree that I just flushed this whole story down the dunny. Some of you said in response to the first part of this two-shot that you'd like to see things get settled, but not a huge make-up. I tried to avoid that, settling somewhere in the middle. At heart, I'm a Faxness girl through and through though. I just couldn't . . . abandon the love, if ya get me. I tried to keep this is in character as possible, and I hope I succeeded. Review and tell me? (:

Thanks to all who read this, I hope you enjoyed it, and don't forget to review!

Over and Out,

Dozey212


End file.
